In the Long Run

I thought it was a serendipitous bonanza the other day when I called customer support and was connected to a computer technician, Greg, who not only spoke English as a first language, but also seemed able to immediately identify and solve my computer woes.

“I know exactly what the problem is,” he said confidently. “I’m going to order you a part, so we can get this working for you, and then…I’m going to tell you your choice of three jokes, free of charge!” Though it seemed unusual, it was a far better deal than my previous calls to get some resolution for the problem, when I was connected to someone named Lakshman or Vijay who lives 13 time zones away from me. In those cases, I would end up totally frustrated when they didn’t understand me as I tried to describe the computer problems, and I couldn’t understand their instructions because of their modest English. And it was even more exasperating when more than once I was inexplicably cut off after spending close to an hour on the phone with no progress made on the computer problem.

Greg did speak with a Southern drawl, but he was totally understandable as he asked for some information, and arranged for a house call. “Now, for the joke,” he continued. “Do you want to hear about the opossum in the closet, the panda bear, or the cowboy in Starbucks?” I was flush with the satisfaction of the quick and easy computer problem solution, and willing to humor him.

I picked the opossum, and Greg informed me that it was not so much a joke as a true funny story that had happened to him when he was sixteen. Indeed, he artfully spun a colorful tale of a hissing possum that had crawled up under his house and in through a vent of some kind into his bedroom closet. There was no punch line, but he seemed to derive great glee from imitating the animal’s snarling teeth baring, and describing his efforts to safely remove it from the house. I chuckled politely, and thanked him for his help with my computer, and for the free entertainment.

Two days later, the local computer technician, Albert, showed up at my door, ready to follow through with Greg’s promise of a sure-fire fix. Now this was service. Three hours later, Albert left, as frustrated with my computer as I have been…and with the computer problem still vexing me. Somehow, though, I’m not the least peeved with Greg, even though he didn’t end up being any more help than unintelligible Vijay. Greg didn’t solve my problem, but his Southern charm soothed my pique. And maybe in some needle in a haystack chance, when I call customer support again, I’ll get Greg, and he’ll tell me the joke about the cowboy in Starbucks.

Posted by Cyppy at 1:27 PM